entry to Bolivia - SHOCK!

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BOLIVIA...BOLIVIA...BOLIVIA....BOLIVIA...BOLIVIA...BOLIVIA...

sorry, getting a bit carried away after the humazing 6 - 1 victory to Bolivia last Wednesday...April fool´s day, what a fool those argies are, although I must be quiet because I am in fact typing in a cafe in Argentina! shhhhhhh....Yes, that´s right - I got out!!! you can call back the helicopters and speedboats and SAS task force, there is no longer any need to continue the search for the lost bouncyn boundin burnsie who dissappeared in Bolivia! here I am - across the border, passport stamped, bags searched, rubber gloves, drugs found, bribe paid, BOO..! (nah - only joking about those last bits)

here I am, I´m waving from Salta, North of Argentina, below the Salt lakes of Bolivia ...ugggggh - Bolivia - I hear that word and it makes me shiver...ugghhhhh....an even worse phrase would be (should I say it) ´Wild Rover backpackers hostel´...but we´ll come to that shortly - it deserves its own book the amount of time and craic I spent in that place! So for now, I will tell you about my antics 2 months ago - for that is how far behind on this blog I have become. Cheers for the kick up the arse Brian, had it not been for your abrupt facebook post and my early bus into Salta this morning, these words would not be appearing on this very screen!!! oh and the slight mention of the word blog everytime I phone bonny bonny Saintfield..! (Hi MA!)

...So if we could all jog our memories back to 15th January 2009, it was a warm winters eve, birds were fluttering their wings in the air, there was a quaint swank of musty lustyness lurking in the undergrowth and a certain Mark Byrne and Robert Gurney attempted to cross what could be known as one of the most dodgy-est border crossings in the world. Its like walking across a bridge into North Korea with 100 gunmen dressed in white looking at you up and down knowing at any flinch you are mince meat on their dinner plate with a wee bit of ketchup thrown in for good measure. So stamp stamp spank you mam, off you trot...and off you trot quickly past all the guards into what is the most dirtiest dingiest depressing town I have ever come across...All border towns are like this, they only exist because they need a migration office, and with a migration office comes a police station and with a police station comes a money exchanger (well some guy sitting by a table with a drawer full of money and a calculator- and his name certainly isn´t Thomas Cook), and with a money exchanger comes a drinks seller, and with a drinks seller comes a pharmacy and with a pharmacy comes a sick guy, and with a sick guy comes a beggar and with a beggar comes a limping dog - you can kind of get the picture…! So to the train station to get this supposed death train…shame it was sold out for that day and there was no chance I was staying here. Also, if crossing back to Brazil was as much trouble as coming into Bolivia then we were screwed…

“Bus anyone?¿?” says the local friendly guy with the gold teeth

“aye…why not…done plenty of buses…I´m used to this carry on” says I

….he he he he as the gold toothed fairy with frailed worn torn wings sniggers to himself….

This is Bolivia after all, what were we to expect? (apart from the fastest internet connection encountered on our travels yet!)

2 hours to burn, no sweat…leave your bags beside this pile of horse manure in this empty barn the people round here call a bus station…! Oh, where´s the ticket desk…that´s him sitting on a stool with a notepad and pen - excellent!! T.I.S.A . (This Is South America, but come on someone is taking this piss here!)

So, the world´s most dodgiest rickiest bus duly pulls up at our shed of a bus station 2 hours later after we both enjoyed a good meal and 2 litre bottle of Coke for $2.50…

ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha…

that was basically the noise Rob and I made for a good 20 minutes…and it got even louder throughout the journey…We didn´t have time to fear for our lives (on what was and still is the best bus journey of my life, for various reasons) we were too busy laughing…

This bus was well past its sell by date, the floor was ripped up, the seats had no arm rests, just a rusty bit of metal sticking out…the front window was cracked, the cloth material didn´t look in any way clean…I mean, not even 10 shades near the original colour! But here we were…A short story perhaps:

The jolly white jumbo bus set off down the rickety stoney lane, every time changing gear with the sound of the driveshaft whirring within the last inch of its life! Pulling up to a convenience store the little helper boy disconnected the pneumatic air-hose for the door and kicked it open! After stocking up with cocoa leaves and cheap cola (and reconnecting the air-hose of course), the driver set off on his 16 hour journey to Santa Cruz de la sierra. All was fine on this hot wintry summer spring day, the roads were clear and there was no sign of a dribble of rain, although every corner the speed limit dropped 20 kmph, not that this bothered the driver - ´FLAT TO THE MAT LIKE YOU´RE LATE FOR MASS…!´ the passengers could hear him mutter as he wiped the sweat off his forehead with his flowerly petal covered rag…

All was going well, and this seemed it could become a pleasant bus journey all backpackers would hope for… until… the heavens opened and rain started to cover the windscreen like a teenager squeezing his first spot in front of the bathroom mirror. But it just got thicker and thicker, who needs windscreen wipers the driver thought, I have my flowerly petal covered rag to do me justice, but what he was really thinking, to the demise of his fellow passengers, was “my windscreen wipers don´t even work…I´m just going to have to do….”

HANG ON - the start of rainy season and you don´t have functioning windscreen wipers - interesting…¿!

And suddenly things turned from bad to worse as the highway that had once been covered in smooth surface of a tarmacadum nature dramatically turned into a dirttrack..BANG!…just like that… Tarmac - Dirt …hard to believe, but T.I.B (This is Bolivia)…How the tables had turned, this once Jolly White 20 tonne bus was now driving on basically a motocross track with trucks and cars coming opposite directions, it was no longer white but a lighter tone of DIRT. Feeling scared and unable to see through its rain covered window, the driver frequently wiped with his rag (which was not so flowery anymore what with the mixture of sweat and precipitation) and appointed a new member of bus staff…His devoting fat obese overweight wife, with the dress sense of a troll…She got the position of ´Cow Spotter´…A position duly regarded as being fit for only those of 20-20 vision and of a high stamina and ability to sit on handbrake levers…! But apparently, the ex flying squadron fighter pilot was absent this day, so she had to do…! O´ there´s one….Close your eyes and go to sleep…It will be much better in the morning mark…..zzzZZZzzz zzZZzz ZZZzzzz zzzzZZZ zzzz

Well, in the morning…it was just as funny.. I have a video to prove it…imagine power sliding in a coach on a dirtrack whilst overtaking another coach that is powersliding at the same time…I mean our drivers arm muscles must have been huge because he was constantly swinging that wheel left to right the whole journey…!

Hilarious crack…don´t worry, all bus journeys since have been dead on, apart from the fact that some of them you are literally looking over the edge of a 200m drop…But people people….you must understand - T.I.S.A. never fear…its all part of the experience …(okiy dokiy mum)…

So we arrived in Santa Cruz and stayed for a few days…not really much to see…Apart from the fact that Ferry Crsten was playing..(trance, dance DJ for all those out of touch with the 21st century)..that was a pretty awesome get together with a crew from the hostel and I raved my little titties off…cooled off at the end with the help of a fully functioning fire engine and its hose - CRAZY bolivians!

But not very impressed with the city in general - wouldn´t recommend. It aint really Bolivia, too much money and not very much culture. Was only really a stop as we were coming from that direction see…But the hostal was loverly and had plenty of D.V.D.´s to choose from in the TV room. Actually best TV room yet with beanbags and comfy things - awesome…maybe that´s why we didn´t see much the city….

Anywho….a blog entry on one bus journey..I´m never going to get up to date with this…no fear…next is Dinosaurs and Silver mines, then a salty smell…and dare I mention - The Rover!!!!

Peace out, love ya´ll…(hope I didn´t swear too much this time mum)

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Photos

WTF
what speed are we going then Rob?

CR-sexxxxxxxxx
well, a bolivian version, the only one I´ve seen on me travels!

RAVING
well, we´re just pulling faces really!

Ferry Corsten
trance it up flat to the mat, 110%, like your late for mass

VODKA
need I say more...¿